#@amaranthaes.

[lottokinn]

we’re gonna have to jump! @amaranthaes

Cometer loucuras? Era algo que Love toparia na mesma hora. Amarantha parecia experienciar da mesma dose de adrenalina que ela porque estavam no topo da cachoeira, segurando firme uma na mão da outra. Prontas para pular ali. Ok, tudo poderia dar em tragédia, mas Kinn confiava que suas asas poderiam salvar ambas se algo desse muito errado. ❝ ― Vamos no 3! Um, dois, três... ❞ | @amaranthaes

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Baby, Mine

Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot

Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.

Bonus Chapter/Part 2

Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination

“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”

“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.

Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.

“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.

“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”

There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.

“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”

And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.

So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.

Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.

As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.

She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.

Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”

“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“

“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”

Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,

“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”

He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”

She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”

And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.���

At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.

A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”

She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.

The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.

Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.

Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.

Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.

Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.

But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.

As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.

Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.

He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.

“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.

A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.

As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”

He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”

Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”

“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”

“At the Town House.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”

Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.

“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”

“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”

Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,

“Secrets”

“Secrets”

He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”

Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.

“Easy brother.”

Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.

“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.

“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”

Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”

Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.

Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”

“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”

“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.

Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”

She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.

“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”

Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.

“She kicked for the first time the other day.”

Rhys raised a brow.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.”

Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.

“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“

Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.

“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”

Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”

“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”

As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”

Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”

“Okay, quieter than usual.”

Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”

“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”

She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.

Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.

She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”

Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”

She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”

“Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.

“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”

Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”

She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”

A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”

Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.

Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”

And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.

It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.

The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.

“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.

“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”

Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”

Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”

He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”

————————-

“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.

“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”

“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”

“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”

“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”

“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”

“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”

“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.

Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.

Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”

She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”

“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.

She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”

“I know better than to go against your intuition.”

With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”

As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”

She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”

As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.

The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.

Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”

Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.

She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.

“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.

Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.

“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”

An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.

“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”

Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.

“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”

The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.

Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”

“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”

Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”

“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”

Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”

Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”

Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.

“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.

Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”

She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.

“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”

She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.

The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.

Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”

Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.

————————-

Epilogue

Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.

He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.

Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”

Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”

Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”

The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”

Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”

Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”

Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.

[copypastus]

What if acotar antagonists got the same level of justification as our 'heroes' from the Night Court did?

[hisonlykiwi]

"With that kind of power at your disposal, the possibilities are endless."

synopsis: azriel, who's never bothered to acknowledge your existence seeks you out for help.

wc: 1.3k

warnings: mentions of gore memories and trauma.

a/n: hey guys, i'm thinking of making this a small series with multiple parts. please let me know what you think <3

part two

____________________________________________

I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration, looking over the report Rhysand had given me a few days back. I look at the clock ticking away on the wall beside me; It’s been exactly 5 hours and 27 minutes since I came down to the library. 5 hours and 27 minutes of studying the reports of the numerous attacks on Velaris and I’ve got no lead or clear motive.

I let out a sigh, shifting my gaze over to the shelves around me brimming with books that are probably older than me. I wonder how Rhysand keeps such good care of this place, it’s truly a sight for sore eyes. Since a child, I’ve loved nothing more than hiding away in the library and stuffing my face with any book I could- I freeze.

The air around me shifting slightly. I felt a shudder dance down my spine, the air thick and heavy. I move my hand down to my thigh where I keep my dagger. I feel something, no, I feel someone’s eyes watching me. My eyes fix on a darkened corner of the library, instantly seeing a familiar figure. Our gazes instantly lock, and I stir slightly in my seat. An uneasy feeling pooling in my stomach, how long had Azriel been standing there, watching me? I didn’t dare break eye contact until I gasped at the feeling of a cool breeze on my ankle, I looked down to see a tendril of black smoke, very similar to the ones I’ve seen around Azriel. It must’ve felt me staring at it because it hurried back to the unlit corner where Azriel stood.

 I awkwardly clear my throat and release the tight grip I had on the dagger, “Can I ask why you’re lurking in the shadows and watching me?” I say to him, monitoring his every movement. I felt odd asking him a question seeing as we’ve never talked before. I see him all the time but always at a distance, he never talks and always has a stoic expression. The only thing I know of him is he is the spymaster shadowsinger who has been Rhysand’s best friend since childhood and just so happens to be, one of the most powerful Illyrians in Prythian history.

“Just gathering information.” He says, stepping out of the corner, the soft light accentuating his strong features. I tracked his every movement; It was no secret that Azriel was devastatingly handsome. I felt a nervous pang in my chest watching him approach me. “You’re quite fascinating to observe.” He continued, I raised an eyebrow at his statement, “And what exactly is fascinating?” I could feel his eyes scan over my figure, "Your movements, your expression, your presence... It's all quite intriguing." He said in a low deep voice.

I felt a small heat rise to my cheeks, I ran a hand through my hair, unsure of what to do or say. Oddly enough, I felt anxious, but I refuse to let it show. “Is there something I can help you with?” I ask him in a stern voice. I’m confused as to why he is speaking to me in the first place. I watch him take a sit on the chair in front of me, suddenly this table felt quite small.

He watches me, gaze still piercing. "Help me? Well... There is one thing I was curious about..." He said in a suggestive tone. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, “About?” I stared back at him. I watched as he mirrored my position, also crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back.

There was curiosity etched in his features, “Two words; reality altering.” I made no movement; the air so tense I could slice it with my dagger. I only stared back at him, expressionless. There is no possible way he knows about my powers, the only two people who know are Rhysand and Amarantha, who’s head I personally saw get impaled to a wall, so safe to say it wasn’t her. And Rhysand wouldn’t be careless enough to give away this vital information, even if the man in front of me was his best friend. “Yeah, I’ve read about it.” I say to him, trying to sound bored.

My comment caused for a smirk to break out on his beautiful face, “A little mouse told me you have a powerful gift. A gift so powerful that people would go to war over it.” I chuckled, “Is that so? When you find that powerful gift, please let me know, I would love to have such power.” I finished with a smile. Azriel's expression remained unflinching as he kept his eyes locked with mine, his intense gaze not wavering.  “Is that what you told Bodhi before you made him brutally murder his entire family?” I felt my breath hitch in my throat, I shut my eyes, memories of Bodhi’s face and his family’s mutilated bodies flooded my mind. The painful memories serving as a reminder of why I will never know peace nor deserve peace. It’s haunted me every single night, their horrific screams replaying over and over in my nightmares.

"Ah, so now it's confirmed." He said, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I knew there was something special about you.” I deeply sigh, trying to push away the thoughts of what Amarantha forced me to do nearly 50 years ago to the back of my mind, like always I’m rendered unsuccessful. I open my eyes to meet his golden eyes once again. “What’s it to you, Azriel?” I spit out at him, his name tasting like venom in my mouth. He leaned over the table, his voice dropping dangerously low. "With that kind of power at your disposal, the possibilities are endless... You could control armies, change the course of history... Or you could use it for more hedonistic pursuits."

Now it’s my turn to mirror his movements, I put my elbows on the table and lean over the table, our faces less than a foot apart. “So, I ask again, what’s it to you?” He replied, his voice low and cold, "It's simple, really. I want to know exactly what that power of yours can do." After a few moments, “No.” I plainly say, I tear my gaze from his and start collecting the report from the table so I can make my way out. "Running away already, are you?", his deep voice said, carrying authority. I ignore him and continue to get my bag, when I felt his hand on my wrist, stopping me from standing up.

“I need your help.” I pause and look back at him, a pleading look on his face. “Why? You’ve never spoken to me, let alone acknowledged my existence. Then you barge in here, provoking me and suddenly you want my help? I have to laugh.” I pull my wrist away, but he grips tighter, “Please.” He says, and I tug my wrist away again, but he doesn’t budge.

 “Let. Me. Go.” I say, unable to withhold my anger. I blink and suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of the woods with Azriel still holding my wrist. He fucking winnowed us to the middle of nowhere. “Azriel, what the fuck are you doing?!” I give him a hard shove, but he doesn’t budge, of course, he doesn’t, he’s a 6’5 man made of pure muscle, ugh! He holds me close to his chest, “I have strong suspicions the inner circle is in grave danger and your abilities would be able to prove if I’m correct.” He quickly says, I stop moving, processing what he just said. He notices, slowly lets me go and moves away a bit but stays close. I peer up at him, confusion and concern laced in my features. “What do you mean, exactly?”

I furrow my eyebrows, still processing. Danger? How could they possibly be in danger? Is that why he brought us out to the middle of the woods, so no one would hear him? I hear Azriel take in a deep breath, “I think Elain is working with Hybern.”

[sydneymack]

A Court of Thorns and Roses Page Overlays (Part 4)

Artist: @listening_stars_

[shittalkingwiththesuriel]

No, cause one of my favorite parts from ACOTAR is when Feyre is UTM and she meets Amarantha for the first time and is like “she’s not as pretty as I thought she’d be”

[dee-writes-smut]

SNAPDRAGONS (Chapter Four)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Eris returns from a council meeting angry and hurt. Something has to give, will it be you or your friendship?

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, verbal abuse, physical abuse, toxic parents, children being forced to parent siblings, grief, loss, kissing, pregnancy, murder, and guilt.

AUTHORS NOTE this is probably one of my favorite and hardest chapters that I’ve had to write so far. The experiences described in this chapter were some I relate to, please, please be careful proceeding. Your mental health is more important!! I love you all, please take care of yourselves and enjoy.

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the evening settled into night, the sky transformed into a tapestry of celestial wonders, a breathtaking display of twinkling stars set against the backdrop of an endless expanse of indigo. The moon, a luminous crescent hanging low on the horizon, cast a soft silver glow over the landscape, bathing the forest in an ethereal light.

Above, the stars shimmered like scattered diamonds strewn across a velvet canvas, their brilliance piercing the darkness with an otherworldly beauty. Constellations danced across the heavens, their intricate patterns weaving tales of ancient lore and forgotten legends.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the surrounding trees, their rustling whispers a melodic accompaniment to the symphony of the night. The air was alive with the chorus of nocturnal creatures, their calls and cries echoing through the stillness, a reminder of the vibrant world that thrived beneath the canopy of branches.

In the distance, the faint flicker of fireflies danced among the foliage, their luminous trails tracing intricate patterns in the night air. And overhead, the Milky Way stretched like a river of stardust, its milky glow a celestial highway leading to worlds beyond imagination.

As you looked out at the vast expanse of the night sky, a sense of awe and wonder washed over you, the beauty of the universe unfolding before your eyes like a timeless symphony. And in that moment, as you gazed up at the heavens with reverence and awe, you felt a profound connection to the world around you.

At 29 weeks pregnant, your movements were slow and deliberate, your swollen belly serving as a gentle reminder of the life growing within you. With each step, you waddled slightly, the weight of your burgeoning bump shifting with every movement.

As you paced the room, a sense of restless anticipation gnawed at your insides, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Eris had been gone for what felt like an eternity, his absence leaving a void in the room that seemed to echo with his presence.

With each passing moment, the babe within you seemed to share in your impatience, their movements growing increasingly restless as if in anticipation of Eris's return. Tiny kicks and flutters rippled across your abdomen, the sensation both exhilarating and comforting as you waited for him to come back.

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of Eris's reaction when he finally returned, imagining the look of awe and wonder that would cross his face as he felt the baby's kicks for himself.

The minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the anticipation of Eris's return weighed heavily on your mind. You paused mid-step, your heart skipping a beat as the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall outside, signaling his imminent arrival.

With bated breath, you turned towards the door, your pulse quickening with each passing moment. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a tangible presence that seemed to fill the room with electric energy.

And then, suddenly, he was there.

The footsteps grew louder, closer, until finally, the door swung open, revealing Eris's tall, imposing figure framed in the doorway. But before you could utter a word of greeting, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the red mark marring his cheek, a vivid reminder of the altercation he had undoubtedly faced.

You watched in stunned silence as he stormed past you, his expression darkened with anger and frustration. The weight of his emotions hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room that seemed to suffocate the very air around you.

With a sharp motion, he reached for the door to his own chambers, slamming it shut with a resounding thud that reverberated through the walls. The sound echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the tension that lingered between you.

The suddenness of his actions left you reeling, a knot of worry forming in the pit of your stomach. What had happened to provoke such a reaction? What could have caused him to lash out in such a manner?

But even as the questions swirled in your mind, you knew that now was not the time for answers. With a heavy sigh, you turned back towards the room, the sense of unease lingering in the air like a dark cloud on the horizon.

With a surge of determination, you approached Eris's door, the weight of concern heavy in your chest. Despite the tension that hung thick in the air, you refused to let him shut you out. With each step, you could feel the baby's kicks growing more insistent, as if urging you on in your quest to reach him.

Gathering your resolve, you raised your hand to knock, but before your knuckles could connect with the wood, you hesitated. The memory of his anger, the red mark on his cheek still vivid in your mind, gave you pause. But then, with a deep breath, you steeled yourself and rapped firmly on the door.

"Eris," you called out, your voice steady but laced with concern. "Please, let me in. We need to talk."

No response.

"Please, Eris," you implored, your voice gentle but firm. "Let me in. Whatever happened, we can face it together. You don't have to carry this burden alone."

Nothing.

“You have been so kind and welcoming to me, so accepting of me, and I only wish to do the same for you," you begin, your voice soft but unwavering, the sincerity of your words echoing through the door and into the room beyond. "I won’t judge, I won’t get angry, I just want to listen to you, to let you air out your burdens as you have let me air out mine.”

The warmth of your breath fogs the cool air around you as you continue, the words tumbling from your lips like a gentle stream. “You made this babe fall in love with you and now she won’t leave me alone,” you say with a fond smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you recall the playful arguments you and Eris had shared about the baby's gender.

Memories of warmer afternoons spent amidst the beauty of nature flood your mind, the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle caress of the breeze a soothing backdrop to your conversation. “She’s been kicking the crap out of me all evening, so excited to hear you, to feel you near.”

You pause for a moment, the weight of the words hanging heavy in the air between you. The silence that follows is palpable, filled with the unspoken hope and longing that binds you together. As you stand there, your hand resting gently on your swollen belly, you can't help but feel a sense of peace and utter gratitude for the bond that exists between the three of you.

There was a moment of silence, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves outside the window. But then, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the click of the lock, and the door creaked open ever so slightly.

Peering inside, you could see Eris standing just beyond the threshold, his expression guarded but softened slightly by the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down, your determination unwavering.

“You should leave. Get out while you can,” he snaps, his voice sharp and cutting as his expression shifted to one of cold indifference. The words hit you like a physical blow, his tone laced with bitterness and venom.

Your heart sinks as you stand before him, the weight of his rejection heavy in the air between you. The babe in your stomach seems to sense the tension, their movements stilling as if in response to the palpable anger that fills the room.

“Eris, you know that we only want to help,” you plead, your voice trembling with emotion as you rub circles over your bump, your other hand instinctively supporting your sore back. But his response is like a dagger to the heart, his dismissiveness cutting deep.

“Please don’t shut me out,” you whisper sadly, the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you implore him to let you in. But he only scoffs in response, his laughter harsh and mocking, echoing through the room like a dark cloud.

The cruelty of his words leaves you reeling, the pain of his rejection twisting in your chest like a knife. You feel as though you’re standing on the precipice of a vast abyss, the chasm between you widening with each passing moment.

“Why not? Why not just do what you do, run away when things get tough, push my burdens onto other people instead of dealing with them myself?” Eris’s voice is filled with bitterness and resentment, his anger boiling over like a storm on the horizon.

But even as he turns away from you with a dismissive wave of his hand, you refuse to give up hope. The love you feel for him burns bright within you, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatens to consume him.

"I'm done talking about this," he declares, retreating into the depths of his chambers and slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding thud. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, a stark reminder of the rift that now lies between you.

Alone in the silence, tears streaming down your cheeks, you vow to fight for him, to break through the walls he has erected and bring him back into the light. Because deep down, you know that your love is stronger than the anger and resentment that threaten to tear you apart. And no matter how dark the night may seem; you refuse to let it extinguish the flame of hope that burns within you.

So, you slink down onto the floor outside his door, stretching your legs out in front of you and continuing to rub soothing circles over your belly.

“My mother wasn’t a kind woman,” you began, the words heavy with the weight of memories long buried. Closing your eyes, you allow the story to unfold before you, the scenes of your past playing out like a haunting melody in the recesses of your mind.

You’re transported back to that cursed cottage, the air thick with the scent of herbs and potions, the walls adorned with strange symbols and trinkets of unknown origin. Your family moves through the dimly lit rooms like shadows, their presence both familiar and suffocating.

But even from a young age, you knew you were different. More emotional, more vulnerable than the rest of your family. While they seemed to thrive in the harsh environment of your home, you struggled to find your place, to fit into the mold they had carved out for you.

“She ruled with an iron fist, demanding obedience and loyalty above all else,” you continue, the memories flooding back with painful clarity. “But no matter how hard I tried, I could never quite meet her expectations.”

The sound of her voice echoed in your ears, sharp and cutting like the crack of a whip. You could feel the weight of her disapproval bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket, her words a constant reminder of your perceived inadequacies.

And so, you forced yourself to become hard, to close yourself off from the pain and hurt that threatened to consume you. You built walls around your heart, steeling yourself against the onslaught of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you at every turn.

“But despite her cruelty, there were moments of tenderness,” you admit, the memories bittersweet in their complexity. “Moments when she would let her guard down, if only for a fleeting instant.”

But those moments were fleeting, like rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds before disappearing once more. And in their absence, you found yourself retreating further into yourself, hiding behind a mask of indifference and stoicism in order to survive.

Yet amidst the chaos and cruelty of your upbringing, there was one duty that fell squarely on your shoulders: the responsibility of raising your two younger siblings. Forced into the role of caregiver at a young age, you bore the weight of their well-being as if it were your own.

The memory of those days weighs heavily on your heart, the burden of caring for your siblings a constant reminder of the sacrifices you made to keep them safe. But even as you carry the scars of your past, you refuse to let them define you, finding strength in the resilience that has carried you through the darkest of times.

As tears welled in your eyes, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion for the child you once were, forced to grow up too soon in a world that offered little solace or comfort. But even as you grieve for the innocence lost, you find solace in the knowledge that your love for your siblings has endured, a beacon of light in the darkness that has shrouded your past.

“I loved my siblings, fought for those boys that I had raised into good, kind men until their last breaths,” you choke up, the memories of their untimely demise flooding your mind like a torrential downpour. Images of their eviscerated bodies, piled high among others lost in the war against Hybern, haunt your every thought. “And when I lost them, it was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you recall the anguish of that moment, the gut-wrenching agony of knowing that you had failed to protect the ones you loved most. It felt as if your heart was being ripped from your chest, like you were being torn apart slowly from the inside out.

“I had lost my purpose, the only thing in life I knew how to do other than kill,” you continue, your voice trembling with emotion. “That is until I found purpose in trying to save my home court, to save its people more than anything.”

The memories of your journey flooded back with startling clarity, the trials and tribulations that led you to where you are now. And then, almost hesitantly, you speak of the man who changed everything.

“It’s what led me into Lu- into a man's arms, to where I am,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought I would be able to love again, not like I had loved my brothers, so unconditionally.”

But then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, you found out you were pregnant. And in that moment, amidst the fear and uncertainty, you felt a rush of total, complete love, unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

“That same night I swore I’d do anything for her, kill, be anything for her,” you confess, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. “And then I met you, and I realized there were two people I would do anything for, be anything for.”

The door clicked and moved inward behind you, swinging open gently, and you scrambled to your feet to meet him head on. Eris stood in the doorway, his figure bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting long shadows across the floor. His features were drawn tight with tension, his eyes a stormy mix of emotions you couldn't quite decipher.

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the threshold of his chambers. The weight of the unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a tangible force pressing down on you both. But then, with a resigned sigh, he stepped back, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were navigating treacherous terrain.

As you crossed the threshold, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation wash over you. The atmosphere within his chambers was charged with electricity, every corner of the room crackling with untamed emotion. It was as if the very walls were alive, pulsing with the raw intensity of the moment.

You took a hesitant step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet, echoing in the silence that enveloped you. The air seemed to thicken around you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. It was a delicate dance, navigating the fragile boundary between you and Eris, each movement fraught with uncertainty and longing.

“It’s from my father,” Eris whispers ever so softly, his voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire. He avoided your gaze, his eyes fixed on the warm-colored floors beneath you, as if unable to meet your gaze while he divulged the painful truth.

You felt your heart clench at his words, a surge of anger and sorrow rising within you like a tidal wave. It was a side of Eris you had never seen before, vulnerable and wounded, stripped of the facade of strength and indifference he so often wore like armor.

“I disagreed with him on something during a council meeting,” Eris continues, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud made them all too real. “And he slapped me right in front of everyone, called me a worthless piece of shit, said he wished I had died in my mother's womb so he could have had a better chance at a proper heir.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the cruelty that had shaped Eris's life since childhood. You could see the pain etched into every line of his face, the weight of his father's words bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

Eris's throat bobbed as he spoke, his voice choked with emotion, as if afraid to give voice to the depths of his suffering. It was a vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a crack in the facade of strength he had always presented to the world.

Eris paused, his words catching in his throat as he summoned the strength to speak of the pain that had shaped his past. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if grappling with the memories that threatened to consume him.

"I raised all my brothers too," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But Lucien… Lucien was different. He was the one I was closest to, the one I swore to protect with my life."

You could hear the raw emotion in his voice, the ache of loss and betrayal that lingered in every word. It was clear that the wounds of the past ran deep, leaving scars that would never fully heal.

"And then…," Eris falters, his voice breaking as he struggles to continue. "And then my father… he forced me to hold Lucien down while he… while he slaughtered Lucien's lover."

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the horrors Eris had endured at the hands of his own flesh and blood. You could see the pain etched into every line of his face, the weight of his father's cruelty bearing down on him like a crushing weight.

Memories of Jesminda flooded back with painful clarity, and Eris struggled through his words. "Her name was Jesminda," he whispers, his words heavy with sorrow. "A beautiful lesser Faerie, who had a gentle heart."

You could hear the ache in his voice as he spoke of her, the memory of her kindness a bittersweet reminder of all that had been lost. It was clear that she had left a lasting impression on him, her presence a beacon of light in the darkness that had surrounded him for so long.

"I had met her once," Eris continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "She had kissed my cheek and thanked me for taking care of Lucien. She recognized my work, and it… it shocked me."

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the kindness that had been so rare in his life. You could see the turmoil etched into every line of his face, the weight of his past bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

"I had never even considered deserving praise for doing my duty," Eris admits, his voice choked with emotion. "That's when I started realizing that it maybe wasn't supposed to be my job, when I started to disobey my father in small ways."

As you listened to his confession, your heart ached for him, for the years of pain and suffering he had endured in silence. And in that moment, you knew that you would do anything to help him find the healing and solace he so desperately needed, to show him that he was worthy of love and kindness, despite the darkness that had once consumed him.

Eris's voice cracked with emotion as he spoke, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air. "That's when my father found out about her," he whispers, his words tinged with sorrow. "And as punishment to both me and Lucien… that's why he did that."

The pain in his voice was palpable, his anguish laid bare for you to see. It was clear that the memory of that fateful day still haunted him, the cruelty of his father's actions etched into his soul like a scar that would never fully fade.

You reached out to him, your hand trembling as you brushed a strand of hair from his face. "I'm so sorry, Eris," you whisper, your voice thick with tears. "No one should ever have to endure such cruelty."

Eris's voice trembled like a leaf caught in an autumn breeze as he poured out his fears. His words were heavy with the weight of his past, his pain, and his insecurities laid bare before you. It was as if he had opened a door to the darkest corners of his soul, allowing you to glimpse the shadows that haunted him.

"I'm scared to love again," he breathes, his voice barely above a breath, yet resonating with the depth of his emotion. His eyes, usually ablaze with determination, were now pools of vulnerability, reflecting the turmoil within his heart. "Scared to let anyone close. Especially you."

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, stirring a mixture of empathy and tenderness within you. You longed to reach out to him, to wrap him in the warmth of your embrace and chase away the shadows that threatened to engulf him.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Eris confesses, his words laced with anguish as he lays a trembling hand on your bump, feeling the fluttering movements of your unborn child beneath his touch. "Or him."

The tenderness in his gesture, combined with the weight of his words, threatened to bring tears to your eyes. You could feel the raw intensity of his fear, his desperate need to protect both you and your child from the pain he had endured.

"I know it's scary," you murmur, your voice soft and soothing as you reach out to brush away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, your other hand meeting his on your bump. "But trust me. I love you. There is no choice, no deciding. You are my home; you always will be."

The tension in the room was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to wrap around you both as you stood facing each other. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across Eris's face, accentuating the chiseled lines of his features and the intensity of his gaze as he looked at you, his eyes dark with unwavering love and desire.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the blood rushing in your ears as you waited for him to make a move. Every nerve in your body was on edge, every sense heightened as you drank in the sight of him standing before you, so close yet still tantalizingly out of reach.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Eris reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within your soul as you leaned into his touch, craving more of his warmth.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, Eris closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The anticipation hung heavy in the air; a tangible force that seemed to draw you inexorably closer together.

And then, in a moment that felt like an eternity, his lips finally met yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was as if time stood still, the world falling away around you as you melted into each other's embrace.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration of each other's lips, but soon it deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. It was as if a floodgate had been opened, releasing a torrent of pent-up emotion that had been building between you for far too long.

You lost yourself in the kiss, losing track of time and space as you surrendered to the heat of the moment. Every touch, every caress, sent sparks flying through your veins, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both.

Eris's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your form with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you arched into him, your lips meeting his with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, leaving you both breathless and dazed, the echoes of your passion reverberating through the air.

"I love you too," Eris pants, his breath warm against your skin, carrying with it the scent of cool autumn air. It was the kind of scent that would drift through an open window on lazy mornings spent bundled up in bed, the crispness of the air mingling with the warmth of the blankets.

The weight of his confession washed over you like a wave, filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you had never known before. In that moment, you felt as if you were floating on air, carried away by the sheer intensity of your emotions.

But it was his next words that truly took your breath away, sending a shiver down your spine and causing your heart to swell with love and gratitude.

"Both of you," he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he places a gentle hand on your bump. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes, conveying a depth of love and devotion that left you feeling humbled and grateful beyond words.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. In the arms of the man you loved, with your unborn child nestled safely between you, you felt as if you had finally found your home. And as you looked into Eris's eyes, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, united in a love that was as enduring as the stars themselves.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething

[sherell-x]

No surprise here but rhysand is a big fat liar especially between books 1 & 2

Currently sat at my desk just remembering little random things about ACOTAR & then seeing my post from yesterday about Rhysand, Feyre & Tamlin UTM & it struck me that he lied through his damn teeth about Tamlin’s magic in ACOMAF

Basically remember how in ACOMAF Rhysand says to Feyre that the reason he was doing all of that to Feyre was to get Tamlin angry enough that his wrath/rage/magic would explode thus killing Amarantha…well Rhysand goes on to say that no force in the world can go up against Tamlin’s wrath & I’m sat here thinking “hang on a minute…Tamlin didn’t have access to his magic whilst UTM so how can you be doing all those heinous things to Feyre (drugging & SA’ing) to get Tamlin angry enough to kill Amarantha when he didn’t have his magic & was no doubt on some magical leash to Amarantha”

His reasoning then changes to because he didn’t want Feyre to remember her suffering, didn’t want her to break & crumble in front of Amarantha…so which one is the actual reason pookie? I get that 2 things can be true at the same time but Rhysand legit only ever originally gave Feyre 1 reason which was to get under Tamlin’s skin & he states that as clear as day in book 1 but then in book 2 that’s when he says he does it because he doesn’t want to see her fall apart…

He then goes on to say Tamlin did nothing for 50yrs accept sit on his ass & accept his fate when both he & Feyre know that isn’t true!

Lucien legit told Feyre that Tamlin had no choice but to send his friends out to die/they willingly volunteered to sacrifice themselves to try & break the curse & TAMLIN FELT IT EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY WERE KILLED!!! Not only that but Rhysand was the one who not only sat on his ass whoring himself out to Amarantha but helped torture, kill & maim innocent fae, he did that for 50yrs & had NOTHING to show for it, no information on how to bring her down, no leverage, NO NOTHING!

Rhysand’s ability to lie & manipulate is astonishing & Feyre’s ability to accept said lie & manipulation as well as her ability to “forget” the actual facts she’s been told BEFORE the lies began is even more astonishing

[acomaflove]

Rhysand after winning a ton of money for betting Feyre would survive fighting the worm:

[ofbreathandflame]

This is a very long post!

These last couple of months, it’s been interesting to talk about Nesta as a character and how her subsequent characterization is so integral to pointing out the problems in the series. Whether or not you view Nesta to be ‘real’ or ‘good’ character is one thing, and often subjective. Our own personal backgrounds may muddle or influence whether we like these characters or not.

The reason why I think Nesta is an interesting character is because of how she kind of…ruins the story, or the illusion of a story we are given. There are many times in the story where I think SJM could have elaborated on the qualities that she gushes about, but she intentionally chooses not to. For example, if SJM kept Rhysand consistent, I could see him disliking Nesta and wanting to actually hurt her, but have him think about Feyre and her wants and ultimately relent to Feyre’s want. One thing about Tamlin’s abuse that I think was done well was the fact that he genuinely seems broken up by the fact he can’t control his anger, and he feels something akin to guilt, but he doesn’t stop the abuse. It highlights the effect of the victim, not the intention of the abuser. I don’t know if it was intentionally done, but I liked that element of his abuse. I also liked that the dangers that Tamlin are worried about are real – the threat is real. Why? Because I think it proves, to some extent, that we should not justify abuse, even if the abuse seems rational. It proves that in this world, these men should still adhere to the fact of self-control. How can Feyre in a relationship with Tamlin if he can’t regulate his emotions around her?

But then the story does something weird – it embodies Rhysand with these very same qualities. It also recreates Tamlin’s abuse of Feyre with…Nesta – and then justifies it. Nesta arrives in a similar position as Feyre, yet the story goes to great lengths to vilify her for not reaching out; this is a far-cry from how the story (and stans) think about Feyre. (paint scene, fire scene, solstice scene, and hiking scene). We're supposed to sympathize with the decisions being made; so much rides on the fact that the IC are doing this out of the kindness of their heart:

Did Nesta notice the faint glimmer of worry in Amren’s smoky eyes—understand how rare it was? More than that, did Nesta understand that this meeting wasn’t to condemn her, but instead came from a place of concern? Her simmering stare told him she considered this purely an attack.

We're supposed to think about the worry of the Inner Circle and not think about the way they've decided to express their worry. Its similar to this scene that we get with Lucien to Feyre about Tamlin:

“I’ve given him time,” I said. “I can’t stay cooped up in the house forever.” “He knows that—he doesn’t say it, but he knows it. Trust me. You will forgive him if his family’s own slaughter keeps him from being so … liberal with your safety. He’s lost those he cares for too many times. We all have.” Every word was like fuel added to the simmering pit in my gut. “I don’t want to marry a High Lord. I just want to marry him.”“One doesn’t exist without the other. He is what he is. He will always, always seek to protect you, whether you like it or not. Talk to him about it—really talk to him, Feyre. You’ll figure it out.” Our gazes met. A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw. “Don’t ask me to pick.” “But you’re deliberately not telling me things.” “He is my High Lord. His word is law. We have this one chance, Feyre, to rebuild and make the world as it should be. I will not begin that new world by breaking his trust. Even if you …”

Lucien is continually asking Feyre to place Tamlin over her own happiness; he is asking her to consider his feelings before she considers his own - partially because this is the way Lucien is characterized to handle Tamlin's abuse himself. Cassian is asking Nesta to consider the Inner Circle's intention over how she feels. Amren and Rhys immediately shame and threaten Nesta - she is valid in her anger. She has interpreted this meeting as an attack...because it was. I think its especially telling that the later scene is asking Nesta to have empathy for Amren who is arguably the most abusive, abrasive, and unproductive person in that entire meeting. The second part of Lucien's monologue end's up being true for Nesta as the Inner Circle end up doing the same thing to control Nesta's behavior -- whether that be by leveraging Elain, outright forcing her, or even the decision to withhold Nesta's power from her -- these echo the exact same plot points we see in MAF with Feyre.

Let’s compare some scenes:

It was worse than a crown, actually. Built into the box were compartments and sleeves and holders, all full of brushes and paints and charcoal and sheets of paper. A traveling painting kit. Red—the red paint inside the glass vial was so bright, the blue as stunning as the eyes of that faerie woman I’d slaughtered— “I thought you might want it to take around the grounds with you. Rather than lug all those bags like you always do.” The brushes were fresh, gleaming—the bristles soft and clean. Looking at that box, at what was inside, felt like examining a crow-picked corpse. I tried to smile. Tried to will some brightness to my eyes. He said, “You don’t like it.” (MAF: Chapter 9)

“You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian’s lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library.” Nesta blocked out the memory—of the dark depths of that library, the ancient monster that had dwelled there. It had saved them from Hybern’s cronies, yes, but … She refused to think of it. “You will respect her, and the other priestesses in the library,” Feyre said, “and you will never give them a moment’s trouble. Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the House.” Hot rage pumped through her, so loud Nesta could barely hear the real fire before which her sister paced. Was glad of the roaring in her head when the sound of wood cracking as it burned was so much like her father’s breaking neck that she couldn’t stand to light a fire in her own home. “You had no right to close up my apartment, to take my things—” (Silver Flames; Chapter 2)

She could barely stand to hear the crack and pop of the wood. Had barely been able to endure it in Feyre’s town house. Snap; crunch. (FAS: Chapter 21)

"He had Enough of the coldness, the sharpness. Enough of the sword-straight spine and razor-sharp stare that had only honed itself these months"

He understood. He really did. It had taken him months—years—after his first battles to readjust. To cope. Hell, he was still reeling from what had happened in that final battle with Hybern, too

Another grin as he lifted the small, wrapped parcel. “Your Solstice present.” “I don’t want one (FAS)

“Nesta forged a new Trove,” Cassian said, reining in his rage at the truth of Azriel’s words. “She could create anything.” He nodded to Rhys. “She could fill our arsenals with weapons that would win us any war.” Briallyn, Koschei, and Beron wouldn’t stand a chance. “Which is why Nesta must not learn about it,” Amren said. Cassian demanded, “What?” Amren’s gray eyes held steady. “She cannot know.” Rhys said, “That seems like a risk. What if, unaware, she creates more?” “What if, in one of her moods,” Amren challenged, “Nesta creates what she pleases just to spite us…’ (SF)

He appealed to Rhys, “You’re all right with this? Because I’m sure as hell not.” “Amren’s order holds,” Rhys said, and for a heartbeat, Cassian hated him. Hated the mistrust and wariness he beheld on Rhys’s face.(SF

“No. She knows the labor will be difficult, but I haven’t told her yet that it might very well claim her life.” Rhys spoke into their minds, as if he couldn’t say it aloud, I haven’t told her that the nightmares that now send me lurching from sleep aren’t ones of the past, but of the future. Cassian squeezed Rhys’s shoulder. “Why won’t you tell her?” Rhys’s throat worked. “Because I can’t bring myself to give her that fear. To take away one bit of the joy in her eyes every time she puts a hand on her belly.” His voice shook. “It is fucking eating me alive, this terror. I keep myself busy, but … there is no one to bargain with for her life, no amount of wealth to buy it, nothing that I can do to save her.

So much is happening here – there’s actually more scenes, but I don’t want to go and find them all. I wanted to include more similarities between Feyre and Nesta (I might make a separate post with all of those). To some extent, I think a lot of these quotes, even without elaboration echo the point I’m about to make. In quote #4, Cassian’s narration berates Nesta for not being integrated into the family and not being happy at Solsitice, but we the audience know that Nesta (1) isn’t being talked to, (2) she can barely stand the sound of the fire, (3) Feyre forced Nesta to come by essentially holding her rent over her head. And there’s just way to many parallels between how Nesta feels at the NC and how Feyre felt at the Spring Court. Nesta is drowning; she tells us that – Rhysand’s subtle anger is something she not only notices, but internalizes. She specifically mentions that she doesn’t take any of Rhysand’s positions because they were pity offerings; he’s only doing it because of Feyre. The story then decides to let him spearhead the conversations around Nesta’s autonomy. In the first quote, Tamlin's overall ignorance regarding Feyre's mental state, and her aversion to things such as the color Red were considered red flags; yet when Nesta has an aversion to fire, when she is neglected and nearly dies the story spends so much time trying to tell the audience that Cassian simply didn't know - it doesn't say anything about him.

But one of the biggest indicators of this ruin of the story is the fact that Amren and Rhys believe that Nesta should not have her power because ““What if, in one of her moods,” Amren challenged, “Nesta creates what she pleases just to spite us?” (Maas). The issue, as consistently reiterated, is a control one. They don’t trust Nesta simply because they cannot control her – that is what is highlighted as the issue in the story. Furthermore, Feyre doesn’t let Nesta know, she defers to a process that she doesn’t have to. She outranks everyone in that room; if she wanted to tell Nesta was rules would stop her – that’s literally been the way Feyre has characterized (see: Wraiths, the HL meeting attacking Beron, Tarquin and the BoB, Mor/Feyre w/ the Suriel), yet in this moment when she disagrees with Rhys – she essentially defers to his command. She simply expresses a subtle wariness and then moves on. Feyre has the power to just tell Nesta is the point that I am making here. It’s Nesta’s power; they forced her to do these tasks, and when she has one moment of autonomy in making the sword – they are argue that Rhys should make himself High King and Cassian, despite his earlier provocations, believes in this. He agrees with it. And even though I am going on this long, wordy analysis, I think a lot of what I am saying is kind of really clear In these quotes even without explaining.

To bring this back, Rhys (and Feyre somewhat) are only excused because the story believes their intentions were good (see quote #7), which conflicts with what we’ve already seen. These are…the exact same justifications we get about Tamlin; he truly believes that by making her safe, he is making her happy – but we know Feyre values truth over safety. And so the story undermines its lessons by not condemning the actions of its characters and instead leans into moralistic reasons. The argument now isn't even that Nesta isn't being abused, but stans and even the story (subtextually) believe that Nesta deserves the abuse - or that it's purely a consequence of her own immaturity, yet this is a far-cry to how Feyre is perceived in similar situations. The story argues that these characters understand that Nesta is not in her right mind - but constantly the story expects her act functionally in the face of her depression, even though the very reason the decided to lock her up is because they all unanimously believed she could not function by herself. She's expected to respond appropriately to their jabs, do missions on their behalf, train, and work at the library with no pay. She cannot leave Velaris without a Chaperone and all of her Chaporene are employed officials who are gone for the entirety of the book. No one ever actually offers to ever take Nesta out to see the town. I am seriously tired, and really concerned with the way Nesta's abuse is talked about.

[mia-nina-lilly]

I don't entirely share some people's opinion on the character decharacterization of Tamlin from the first to the second book of ACoTaR, and I'll explain why: Tamlin really has reasons to react to the situation as he did, that is, severely.

Tamlin is finally rid of his tormentor after 49 years of waiting for the noose to tighten around his throat once and for all, he was under the Mountain just like everyone else, and before that, he had to keep sending his people beyond the Wall only to be killed - all while his hope dwindled more and more, and his captivity at the hands of a sociopath known for her cruelties became more certain. He spent all that time expecting to be humiliated, tortured, and raped by this person.

And he was there, under her yoke, at her mercy, as much or more at the mercy of Amarantha as anyone else, watching Feyre and Lucien suffer indiscriminately without being able to do anything, with Feyre even being brutalized, sexually harassed, and killed before his eyes.

So, Tamlin, who has just regained all his powers after half a century, whose temperament was never exactly reliable, but was stable until then, has reasons to react this way. He is as traumatized, if not more, than anyone there, and feels, given his silence, that he cannot trust anyone to share what is happening.

It wasn't a decharacterization, it was accurate, decharacterization, in my opinion, were other things, like saying that Tamlin, who sheltered Alis and her nephews in his Court, doesn't care about what happens to his own citizens, as shown in the Tribute scene. That makes no sense at all.

[lottokinn]

❪ ⠀ ⠀ closed starter !!! ⠀ ⠀ ❫ this is for → @amaranthaes.

Já havia se passado alguns dias da missão. Love respeitou o momento de Amarantha se recuperar, ok, era normal e devido aos ferimentos causados pelo cão infernal, demandava um certo tempo. Durante todo esse tempo, ela não tocou mais no assunto sobre o acidente com Veronica e a sua perca de memórias. Com o pedido feito pela filha de Dionísio logo quando chegou para não contar nada sobre, Kinn respeitou porque realmente não havia sentido em revelar algo do tipo enquanto estava toda rasgada das garras do cão. Mas depois de dias... Ai já estava difícil. Já era um entendimento silencioso de que o segredo contado a Perséfone era algo que deveriam levar para o tumulo, mas sobre o ocorrido com Ronnie era diferente e sequer deveria ser um segredo. Entre conversas com a melhor amiga, notou que Amara ainda não havia revelado nada a ela. Em passos firmes, ela decidiu que não iria mais postergar aquele assunto encontrar a loira saindo da enfermaria de alta. Tudo havia sido calculado para saber exatamente o horário em que a semideusa sairia. ❝ ― Precisamos conversar! ❞ — Parou de frente para a amiga a observando fixamente sem dar qualquer vazão de que ela sairia dali sem terem uma boa conversa.

[spacerockfloater]

Feyre is not capable of love.

I was carefully re-reading ACOTAR and ACOMAF and it occurred to me that Feyre tells Tamlin she loves him only once, right before she stabs him. She murmurs it back to him in ACOMAF, too, but he’s always the one to say it first. She also didn’t tell him she loves him before she returned back to her village in ACOTAR, which triggered the events Under The Mountain.

And what’s even more concerning, is that she only tells Rhysand she loves him once it is revealed that he is her mate.

All of that, along with the fact that her inner monologue in ACOMAF when she keeps telling herself that she will wait for the mating bond to snap between her and Tamlin before they get married so that she has solid proof that they belong together, makes me believe that Feyre does not understand the concept of choosing someone and loving them. And this is very strange to me because she only found out about the mating bond a couple of months ago. Why is this so important to her?

I suppose that all the hardships she has endured both as a human and a fae probably make her very reluctant to open up her heart, but this is still very problematic. Her need for a higher power to point out who she must be devoted to makes her seem so weak and strips her off her autonomy.

I guess Amarantha was right about her heart after all…

[copypastus]

Day 5 of @tamlinweek - Masquerade

Why WERE the masks part of the curse anyway?

50 years worth of mask tan bonus.

[sydneymack]

A Court of Thorns and Roses Page Overlays (Part 5)

Artist: @listening_stars_

[arson-09]

Feysand saying they killed amarantha will randomly play in my mind and my mind bluescreens

edit: someone didnt know how to mind their business so let me make it clear i couldn’t remember the context for a qoute in the comments but my point still stands that Tamlin literally killed amarantha like took her life with his own hands. feysand did not which people (and i can swear at some point in the book) did not👍🏻